Silver's Trouble
by Kenna Monster
Summary: One-shot from the wrenching scene in 2x10.


**[A/N : I thought this scene was so amazing!] **

"Give me the names!" Vane's lieutenant growled, swinging the sledgehammer down onto Silver's leg for the third time. He screamed, the sound of cracking bone filling the room. He tried to fight against the gray at the edges of his vision, refusing to let them have the satisfaction of rendering him unconscious.

Suddenly there were shouts and the hands which had been holding him down disappeared as Flint's men stormed the room. Silver turned his head, watching as Billy swung through the window and easily dispatched the man responsible for his torture.

"Glad to see you," Silver huffed as Billy helped him upright.

"Couldn't let you have all the fun," Billy replied, supporting him. They slowly made through way back onto the deck, Flint's crew easily regaining control of their ship.

"Take him to Howe," Billy instructed, unlooping his arm from around Silver's waist so Andrews and Sam could take his place. Silver didn't have a chance to ask how the rescue mission was going, rather focusing on the excruciating pain as the men took him to doc.

"Gently, gently. Easy," Howe ordered as they laid Silver on the table. He groaned, biting back a cry as his leg was jostled.

"Someone give him some rum!"

Andrews cupped the back of Silver's head as a bottle of rum was tipped forward into his mouth. He drank greedily, trying to consume as much as possible before any more pain began.

The room fell silent as Howe cut off his boot. Sam placed his hand on Silver's chest to hold him down, keeping him from being able to see just how bad it really was. But the silence told him enough.

"Come on I'm sure you've all seen worse." He jested. No one replied.

Howe leaned forward so he was looking into Silver's eyes. "I'll do what I can."

He panicked, looking around. "What does that mean? What does that mean?"

More rum was quickly given. Silver could hear Howe moving around then he was back, looking down at him with a sad expression.

"I can clear the room if you'd like."

"Why would you want to clear the room?" Silver asked, peeking at the apron of knives Howe had set beside him on the table. Knives and bone saws.

"When the shock hits some men lose control of their faculties," Howe explained. "I can do it with three or four men."

"We're not going anywhere," argued Sam. The others nodded or murmured in agreement.

That's when realization hit.

"I don't want this! I don't want this!" He begged.

Howe shook his head. "If I don't do something quickly you won't make it three days."

"Did you not fucking hear me?!" Silver shouted, struggling against the hands holding him down. "I said I do not want this!"

"Then you'll die!" Howe replied. "This way there's a very good chance to prevent that."

Silver's breath hitched as he tried to think through the haze of pain but no other solution came to mind.

"The crew'll look after you," Andrews promised. He leaned forward as Sam and other men held Silver down while Howe pulled out the saw.

"No, no!" Silver pleaded, fighting to break free. Tears streaked down his cheeks into but he didn't care, he had to stop them.

"It'll be alright, come on," Sam coaxed.

"Steady," Howe instructed as more men lent their hands to keep him down.

"No!"

The saw sliced through tissue and muscle, sending fire racing up Silver's leg and through his whole body. His back arched off the table and he screamed with each cut that Howe made.

Finally it was too much and he felt himself slip into darkness.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he drifted, but when he came back Silver was surprised to find himself lying on the window seat in Flint's quarters. He glanced out the window, seeing nothing but blue sky and open water.

"Where are we?" He croaked, throat dry.

Flint stood up from his desk and walked over, filling a glass with rum and handing it to Silver.

"Just south of Tortuga," he replied. "The men will be looking to someone solid after all that's transpired recently. They'll look to me, and their new quartermaster."

Silver looked up from his glass. "They voted?

Flint nodded. "Few days ago. I think the men wanted to tell you when you awoke so try to act surprised."

Silver laid back, closing his eyes. Everything was spinning and his stomach lurched. Maybe the rum was a bad decision. But his leg ached in a deep, hollow way which told him alcohol was the only thing that might help.

A cool cloth ghosted across his forehead and he opened his eyes, shocked to find Flint standing beside him wearing a strange expression.

"Just rest," Flint said. Silver blinked a few times his eyes feeling heavy. He fell asleep to his captain gently placing the wet cloth on his forehead before settling into a nearby chair to watch over him.

Maybe he'd lost his leg, but he'd gained much more.


End file.
